


Out of the Loop

by Arowen12



Series: Count to Ten [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Kind of angsty, Maria Deserves Better, Soulmates, Suggested/Implied relationships, canon character death, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22883614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arowen12/pseuds/Arowen12
Summary: Perspectives outside of those who have Alexander Hamilton as a Soulmate.
Relationships: George Eacker/Philip Hamilton (1782-1801), Theodosia Burr Alston/Philip Hamilton
Series: Count to Ten [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633753
Comments: 14
Kudos: 97





	1. Philip

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I'm back with the third part in this series. This one is a bit more loose concept-wise than the first two parts. So far, I have this chapter about Philip and one about Maria Reynolds planned (and maybe King George??). Anyways, read on and enjoy!

X

Philip notices his dad’s soul marks when he is about six years old, at that curious stage where children are just beginning to note how the world around them works. Philip has always been aware of his mother’s soul mark, the elegant curl of his dad’s writing on her wrist side by side with Philip’s smaller hands on the piano keys.

They are playing together one, two, three, four, five, six, when Philip pauses and turns to his mother and asks, “What do the words on your wrist mean?”

She gets that soft look in her eyes, the one that always appears when his dad comes home. His mother trails her fingers lovingly over the words curled around her wrists and replies, “It’s a soul mark baby.”

“Soul mark?”

Philip asks twisting on the piano bench so he can stare at his mother with bright curious eyes that she says he inherited from his dad. She nods and continues, “A soul mark is meant to help you find your Soulmate, someone who you will love deeply, it’s a clue. Some people have words that their soulmate will say, sometimes it’s a name, sometimes it’s even an image.”

“What if you don’t have a soul mark?”

Philip asks tentatively thinking of Angelica whose tiny hands grasp his from her crib and swells Philip’s heart with a love he hadn’t known was possible; he hasn’t seen a single mark on her tiny body. His mother shakes her head and replies, “Just because someone doesn’t have a soul mark doesn’t mean they don’t have a soul mate. Sometimes people have marks that don’t have a match. Some people have more than one soul mark, your father has many; he’s a very special case,” she pauses with a wry grin before she continues seriously, “Soul marks can help guide us but they don’t define us, not unless you let them.”

Philip nods and turns to the piano satisfied for the moment at the answer and thinking of the word curled over his hip _Scoundrel,_ there is another too curled over his heart that says simply _Theodosia._ Philip has traced those two words more than he could possibly count, feeling as if they have become imprinted on the pad of his finger.

That night he crowds onto his dad’s lap where he’s sitting in his arm chair by the fire. His dad laughs, that laugh that is a strange mix of huffing and breathing as he guides Philip into a more comfortable position and continues to read.

Philip is content to sit and look at the book with his dad, trying to parse out the occasional word in a sea that swims before his eyes. Eventually, Philip grows board and tugs on his dad’s sleeves until he places the book down with a raised brow and Philip can’t help but talk, “Today mom and I were playing piano and we were talking about soul marks.”

“You were?”

His dad asks earnestly and maybe a bit hesitantly and Philip nods excitedly as he informs his dad, “Yeah, we were talking about how they’re all different and how some people don’t have any matches or how some people have tons of soul mates. Oh, mom said you have a lot, do you?”

“Yeah kid I do.”

His dad says and the words are weirdly heavy, when Philip is older, he’ll look back on the conversation and wonder, but in that moment he doesn’t. He waits patiently for a moment for his dad to show him but when he doesn’t, he tugs at his dad’s sleeves and asks, “Can I see?”

His dad thinks the questions over his lips slanting to one side and his brow furrowing before he nods and shifts Philip slightly so he can unbutton his sleeves. Philp watches with wide entranced eyes as one sleeve is unbuttoned and then the other.

His dad’s arms are blanketed by soul marks, Philip thinks there must be a hundred of them as he trails his fingers over the letters, tracing those he has learned repeatedly and glancing at his dad who has a wry smile.

“That is a lot.”

Philip says as he moves his fingers over the different handwriting. His dad nods and replies, “Yep.”

“Do they all match?”

Philp asks with a frown thinking of what his mom had said earlier that day. His dad shakes his head and replies, “Only two that I know of match. Your mother and a dear friend of mine who is gone now,” his father is suddenly sad eyes dark and heavy as he stares into the distance the way he always does when he thinks of the war that occurred before Philip’s birth, he continues, “But that’s okay. Not all soulmates are even romantic.”

“Ew.”

Philp responds and his dad nods and adds, “Yes ew. But it’s true soulmates can be best friends, they can be paternal figures, they can even be enemies.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

His dad agrees his fingers are tracing over his own marks and Philip can’t help but wonder what it must be like to have ten soulmates; it all sounds pretty cool. His dad sighs and states, “Off you go now, I have another essay to finish tonight before your mother drags me off to bed.”

“Or she’ll put you in the dog house.”

Philp pronounces as he bounces to his feet and wonders if it’s almost time for bed. His dad nods and says, “Exactly.”

Philp grows and the idea of soulmates and soul marks slips to the back of his mind but for the occasion when his dad unbuttons his sleeves and he wonders if he will even meet one of his soulmates. He goes to college young trying to live up to the impossibly long shadow of his dad and maybe grow bright enough to cast his own.

He graduates early and Philp flirts and preens at the eyes of the ladies on the crowded streets until he accidently stumbles into one. She is gorgeous curly dark hair and big brown eyes he tilts his head and says, “My apologies ma’am I was distracted by your beauty and lost my footing.”

“If you’re distracted by every pretty lady on the street, I fear for your health.”

She replies biting wit and a challenging grin. Philip steers them out of the street and replies, “It is only your beauty this morning that has caused me to falter so. Philip Hamilton at your service.”

“Oh. Theodosia Burr.”

She replies quietly and the game is suddenly gone as they stare at each other with wide eyes. Philip tries to remember if he has met Theodosia before. After all their fathers run in the same circles; after all their fathers are political enemies. He thinks maybe he might have seen her at one gathering or another but clearly, they have not been introduced.

The fact that it is her name that runs along his collarbone is a testament to that and he can see her fingers hover lightly over the soft skin of her inner arm. They stand there in silence for a long moment trying to accommodate to the sudden change of terms before Philip finally states, “This is rather unexpected.”

“I doubt our fathers would ever have expected it.”

She retorts and Philip thinks abruptly of his father seated at Mr. Burr’s dining table glaring sullenly at the man as his mom presses her nails into her thigh. Theodosia must be thinking of something similar as she grins into her hands; it’s a beautiful smile.

“Walk me to the store?”

She asks with a tilt of her head and Philip is _helpless_ as he replies, “It would be an honour.”

Theodosia loops her arm through his and Philip’s fingers press lightly to the skin of her inner arm as they join the flow of traffic. They speak as they walk first about the weather and then she mentions Mary Wollenscraft and they are talking about the suffragist movement at such a rapid pace that they have walked long past the store and back before they even remember their original destination.

Theodosia laughs as they pause outside the store and her cheeks are flushed in the faint afternoon light and Philip feels his chest swelling fit to bursts as he asks, “May I have permission to write?”

“Of course, though do be careful my father hovers like the worst of them.”

Theodosia advises and Philip cannot help but respond, “My mother is the same with my father,” Philip pauses and glances at his shoes for a moment before he glances into her dark eyes and states, “I would like to see you again.”

“As would I.”

“Then all you would do is need look in a mirror though I fear your beauty is rather blinding.”

She grins and doesn’t object when Philip presses a kiss to her hand and watches her turn and enter the store with only a glance over her shoulder. Philip is rooted to the spot for a long moment afterwards before he turns and rushes home eager to tell his mother and thinking of seeing Theodosia once more.

A week later Philip’s chest is pounding for a different reason he feels as if the world has been bathed in red as he slams into the dark theatre and towards George Eacker’s booth. The man’s speech echoes through his mind and when he stands in front of the man all he can think of is father, his father who worked hard, harder than anyone else Philip has known to be where he is.

“Your father’s a _scoundrel_ and you know what so are you.”

The words strike cold and clean through his chest and he thinks of his father’s words, “they can even be enemies,” as his fingers trail towards his hip and he asks, “So, it’s like that then?”

The challenge is issued before Philip can think it through barely knowing what a duel is but feeling a strange mix of horrified and justified because it was _his_ soulmate who had said those things about his father. Now it was to settle an issue of honour, they were going to try shoot each other, going to try to kill each other.

Philip wonders if in another life they could have been friends.

He doesn’t know that his dad wonders the same thing about Thomas Jefferson and James Madison.

Philip recalls his dad’s tales of duels during the war and goes to him for guidance. He presses two pistols into Philip’s hands they are heavy (with the weight of a life he wonders) and his father’s expression is grim as he states, “Taking a life is a serious matter Philip.”

He nods knowing that’s all he can do, he feels trapped, pulled between two opposites the need to defend the honour of his family and himself, and that of the part of himself that has always been told soulmates are special and he doesn’t want to shoot his; Philip doesn’t want to die..

Philip writes a letter to Theodosia he can’t bring himself to write like he might die, instead he continues their previous conversation about plans for somehow getting their fathers to have dinner with each other. It is only the last paragraph in which he can bare to impart details of the duel, of the nature of it, of his fears for the future. When it is done, he leaves it where his mother or father might find it and leaves the house, his father’s pistols heavy at his side.

There are no words in his chest, no sensation it has all fled as they row across the river, as they clear the area and Philip draws first position he walks forward and stares at George Eacker. Before they even reach six, he is aiming at the sky, before they reach eight, he feels a bullet pierce his body.

The pain is all consuming and as he falls towards the ground, he sees George Eacker startle. He wonders if the man had a matching mark.

They row him back across the river and the pain is a throbbing sensation blood thick on the air as the fever sets in. His father sweeps into the room like a hurricane tears spill onto his cheeks and he cannot tell who shed them as his mother follows close behind holding his hands tightly in hers.

“Please send the letters on my desk.”

He begs his mother and she nods presses tearful kisses to his hand. It is getting cold and Philip thinks briefly of Theodosia’s smile, of his father as his mother’s voice drifts from away towards him. Une, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, sept, huit, neuf.

Sept, huit, neuf.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed the short insight into Philip's perspective and I know some things were left unfinished sort of but I have plans. Anyways if you have perspectives you'd like to see for this part leave a comment and let me know. Comments are always super appreciated thanks!


	2. Maria

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we are back with another chapter. I got to see Hamilton last night which was pretty cool and I'm excited to write more for this series. So far, for this part I only have this chapter planned but if you guys want to see any other perspectives let me know.

X

Maria has heard of Hamilton. How could she not have heard of the man? His words are everywhere scrawled in the newspapers, littering the conversations around her, seeming to fill the very air of New York. She has heard of the man who is treasury secretary, who fought in the war, but she has only heard rumours.

Her husband is a bitter man, one that she would not have chosen if given the choice. But she did not have a choice. Maria has no visible Soul mark to protest the marriage (why doesn’t she have one she had asked her mother and received no answer but the world always seems to echo with words of damnation), or to reasonably annul it. James has a soul mark, she has seen it rarely but knows it is a point of shame for him, it is a man’s name after all. In that sense maybe they work well, someone with no Soulmate and someone ashamed of the mere name of theirs.

As she is feeding her daughter her husband pours over the paper with a grim expression like he has run amuck of something foul; with their current state of affairs his expression often seems twisted to such expressions.

“Can you believe this?”

He asks and gestures the newspaper towards her. Maria flinches and steps carefully forward unsure if she is actually being given permission to read. It is a headline about Hamilton’s proposed plan to have the Federal government create a national bank. Most of it, she will admit, goes over her head but the anger that fills her husband’s eyes does not and she shrinks back in front of the cradle her breath catching in her throat.

“I’m sick of seeing this fuck’s name in the papers, these rich people who think they can ignore folk like us. Someone should knock him down a peg.”

Her husband pauses and Maria recognizes the gleam in his eyes it is the sort of gleam that she had once mistaken for happiness. If it is happiness it is not the kind she has ever come to know or wants to. James turns on her with narrowed dark eyes, eyes that fall on their child gurgling softly in the cradle; even her children have learned to be quiet.

“Seduce him.”

Her husband orders and Maria pauses where she is pretending at occupation to turn and fix her husband with wide eyes. James nods pursing his lips and continues, “You seduce him, I’ll knock him down a peg and get some money out of it.”

“I-“

Maria begins to protests and James’ sickly satisfied expression twists suddenly and dangerously to anger as he continues, “Ya going to seduce Hamilton hear me?”

He doesn’t overtly threaten her or her daughter; James isn’t a smart man but he’s learned from his mistakes. Maria nods unsure how she is supposed to do so, she has been told she is beautiful and she prays it is enough she doesn’t want to think about what will happen if she fails.

She glances at her daughter and makes a decision.

The summer air is hot and heavy against her skin even in the early evening as she makes her way towards where she knows Hamilton lives, she has heard that he is alone his family upstate and can only pray the rumours hold true. She thinks of her daughter at the boarding house nearby, the one she hopes might allow her to escape James. She prays Hamilton might help in more than one way.

The man who opens the door looks dead on his feet with dark bags under his eyes, a gaunt cast to his cheeks and an air of bleary exhaustion. Beneath that however, he is charmingly handsome and his dark eyes are breath-taking. Maria hesitates for a moment before she begins, “I know you are a man of honour and I’m so sorry to bother you at home but I don’t know where to go and I came here all alone.”

She glances over her shoulder wondering if her husband is lingering in the shadows. Hamilton’s expression shifts from something exhausted to something softer as he welcomes her inside and lets her tell him of her husband; it feels good to speak of it even if it is all based in falsehood.

He offers to walk her home and Maria nods with a smile shifting in that way she knows frames all the curves beneath her dress. Hamilton’s eyes follow the line of her body and he looks like a man starved in front of a banquet.

The air is humid around them as they walk silently through the streets before she tilts her head and says, “This one’s mine.”

He nods and she opens the door and throws as much heat into her eyes as she can let’s herself fall into Hamilton’s dark, dark eyes; she finds it is not as trying as it might have been. Hamilton leans forward like he might fall into her arms before he pauses and glances at his arms, the sleeves of his right arm are loose around his elbow baring his forearm and she can see a spread of ink that nearly covers his whole arm.

It stings with something like jealousy in her chest that this man has so many soulmates and she has none. But maybe what hurts more is that her words aren’t on his arms.

“-Aaron Burr can help you he often works pro-bono on divorce cases.”

She tunes in a moment later and realises that Hamilton hasn’t noticed that she’s seen, instead he’s holding out some money. She takes it carefully with a nod of thanks and tucks away the name Aaron Burr with the money. Hamilton nods and turns away she watches him walk away for a long moment and tries to think of what she is going to say to her husband.

Later she will speak to Aaron Burr in his nicely lit office and see a soul mark on the man’s wrist and wonder.

X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, I hope you enjoyed Maria's perspective and I have some interesting stuff planned. Comments are always super appreciated thank you!


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